Moochie’s Mementos (and a pic or two)

[Moochienanu]

Steam swirls between us,
a veil of heat and mist
softening the edges of your form,
of mine.
Droplets race down my skin,
their paths interrupted by your touch—
firm, knowing.

The water beats like a drum,
its rhythm swallowed
by the quiet gasp I cannot stifle.
My fingers find the smooth curve
of your shoulder,
the wet warmth of your neck,
and linger there,
caught between wanting more
and savoring this.

The air is thick,
clinging to every inch of us,
making boundaries dissolve.
I tilt my face upward,
letting rivulets cascade,
and when your lips find me,
they taste of water and hunger.

Time drips slowly here,
our movements drowning the world beyond.
In this haze,
there is only you,
only me,
and the current pulling us deeper.

 

[menoone]

Steam swirls between us,
a veil of heat and mist
softening the edges of your form,
of mine.
Droplets race down my skin,
their paths interrupted by your touch—
firm, knowing.

The water beats like a drum,
its rhythm swallowed
by the quiet gasp I cannot stifle.
My fingers find the smooth curve
of your shoulder,
the wet warmth of your neck,
and linger there,
caught between wanting more
and savoring this.

The air is thick,
clinging to every inch of us,
making boundaries dissolve.
I tilt my face upward,
letting rivulets cascade,
and when your lips find me,
they taste of water and hunger.

Time drips slowly here,
our movements drowning the world beyond.
In this haze,
there is only you,
only me,
and the current pulling us deeper.

Thick air, heavy with steam, fogged up mirrors, I am sensing a theme. (Rhyming unintentional, but I will take it). Those hungry lips sound delicious though and being pulled deeper with desire in the heat and the wetness in a confined space? So sensual.

 

[obladi]

Steam swirls between us,
a veil of heat and mist
softening the edges of your form,
of mine.
Droplets race down my skin,
their paths interrupted by your touch—
firm, knowing.

The water beats like a drum,
its rhythm swallowed
by the quiet gasp I cannot stifle.
My fingers find the smooth curve
of your shoulder,
the wet warmth of your neck,
and linger there,
caught between wanting more
and savoring this.

The air is thick,
clinging to every inch of us,
making boundaries dissolve.
I tilt my face upward,
letting rivulets cascade,
and when your lips find me,
they taste of water and hunger.

Time drips slowly here,
our movements drowning the world beyond.
In this haze,
there is only you,
only me,
and the current pulling us deeper.

Just about every man's dream, to share a sauna with you ,

 

[oldnotdead47]

Your writing is beautiful Moochie. The reader feels every word, every longing. And your pictures, amazing

 

[Moochienanu]

Thick air, heavy with steam, fogged up mirrors, I am sensing a theme. (Rhyming unintentional, but I will take it). Those hungry lips sound delicious though and being pulled deeper with desire in the heat and the wetness in a confined space? So sensual.

I promise the matching mistiness raveling through both of my last poems was entirely unintentional. I’m glad you enjoyed them.

Just about every man's dream, to share a sauna with you ,

I’m trying to recall if I’ve ever been in a sauna with a man… my memory is coming up blank. I’m certainly not opposed to the company . There is something about the steam, isn’t there?

Your writing is beautiful Moochie. The reader feels every word, every longing. And your pictures, amazing

I’m so glad you are enjoying them, OND. I will have more time in the near future to spend on writing and am looking forward to it.

 

[MatMacL616]

You see so much through your words, it can be difficult to pick out a line or couplet from the whole when each syllable is calling out for emphasis but the liminal space you capture with “caught between wanting more and savoring this” feels like the diaphragm from which every erotic encounter breathes.

 

[menoone]

I promise the matching mistiness raveling through both of my last poems was entirely unintentional. I’m glad you enjoyed them.

Maybe just some subconscious desire for warmth during the dropping temps of winter. Regardless, I always enjoy your writing.

 

[Moochienanu]

You see so much through your words, it can be difficult to pick out a line or couplet from the whole when each syllable is calling out for emphasis but the liminal space you capture with “caught between wanting more and savoring this” feels like the diaphragm from which every erotic encounter breathes.

This was so wonderful of you to say, Mat. Thank you.

 

[Azuldrgon]

*leaving hugs for my friend*

 

[Moochienanu]

The air cracks, sharp and certain,
a sound that lingers,
warm as the sting spreading over my skin.

Your hand lands, deliberate,
a demand and a gift,
leaving its heat like a whispered promise.

I arch, offering,
the curve of my body speaking
what words dare not.
Every smack sings against me,
a rhythm I’ve learned to crave.

The pause between is electric,
a tease that tightens my breath,
pulls my senses taut.
Will it be swift this time?
Soft? Or will you linger,
letting the weight of your palm
rest where I burn for you most?

The ache blooms,
not pain, but pleasure’s sharper edge,
carved deeper with every strike.
My skin hums,
each mark a memory of you,
etched in fire,
held in longing.

I tilt my gaze back,
searching for your eyes,
finding only desire,
mirrored and molten.
This is surrender,
sweet and unspoken,
given freely,
asked for again and again.

 

[oldnotdead47]

I've never quite understood until just now. Thanks for that Moochie.

 

[samslam479]

The air cracks, sharp and certain,
a sound that lingers,
warm as the sting spreading over my skin.

Your hand lands, deliberate,
a demand and a gift,
leaving its heat like a whispered promise.

I arch, offering,
the curve of my body speaking
what words dare not.
Every smack sings against me,
a rhythm I’ve learned to crave.

The pause between is electric,
a tease that tightens my breath,
pulls my senses taut.
Will it be swift this time?
Soft? Or will you linger,
letting the weight of your palm
rest where I burn for you most?

The ache blooms,
not pain, but pleasure’s sharper edge,
carved deeper with every strike.
My skin hums,
each mark a memory of you,
etched in fire,
held in longing.

I tilt my gaze back,
searching for your eyes,
finding only desire,
mirrored and molten.
This is surrender,
sweet and unspoken,
given freely,
asked for again and again.

Everything about this post is perfection

 

[menoone]

The air cracks, sharp and certain,
a sound that lingers,
warm as the sting spreading over my skin.

Your hand lands, deliberate,
a demand and a gift,
leaving its heat like a whispered promise.

I arch, offering,
the curve of my body speaking
what words dare not.
Every smack sings against me,
a rhythm I’ve learned to crave.

The pause between is electric,
a tease that tightens my breath,
pulls my senses taut.
Will it be swift this time?
Soft? Or will you linger,
letting the weight of your palm
rest where I burn for you most?

The ache blooms,
not pain, but pleasure’s sharper edge,
carved deeper with every strike.
My skin hums,
each mark a memory of you,
etched in fire,
held in longing.

I tilt my gaze back,
searching for your eyes,
finding only desire,
mirrored and molten.
This is surrender,
sweet and unspoken,
given freely,
asked for again and again.

Such lovely words of submission, yearning, and fulfillment. It is eloquently put and always a delight to read your perspective on these things.

 

[cactusjack0584]

The air cracks, sharp and certain,
a sound that lingers,
warm as the sting spreading over my skin.

Your hand lands, deliberate,
a demand and a gift,
leaving its heat like a whispered promise.

I arch, offering,
the curve of my body speaking
what words dare not.
Every smack sings against me,
a rhythm I’ve learned to crave.

The pause between is electric,
a tease that tightens my breath,
pulls my senses taut.
Will it be swift this time?
Soft? Or will you linger,
letting the weight of your palm
rest where I burn for you most?

The ache blooms,
not pain, but pleasure’s sharper edge,
carved deeper with every strike.
My skin hums,
each mark a memory of you,
etched in fire,
held in longing.

I tilt my gaze back,
searching for your eyes,
finding only desire,
mirrored and molten.
This is surrender,
sweet and unspoken,
given freely,
asked for again and again.

Seriously erotic and insanely sexy! Wow that was just amazing!

 

[MatMacL616]

These are marvelous Moochie…the diction in this one is propulsive, speaking it aloud elicits the percussive, thumping thwack you so deftly describe and creates a sort of mirrored aural humming to twin with that of your humming skin

 

[Moochienanu]

I've never quite understood until just now. Thanks for that Moochie.

Happy to be a part of your sexual awakening, OND.

Everything about this post is perfection

Making me blush
crimson like my cheeks
after a perfect smack.

Such lovely words of submission, yearning, and fulfillment. It is eloquently put and always a delight to read your perspective on these things.

It makes me so happy to read your comments. Thank you, my friend.

Seriously erotic and insanely sexy! Wow that was just amazing!

Jack, you have a little girl
Smiling big.
Thank you for the compliment.

These are marvelous Moochie…the diction in this one is propulsive, speaking it aloud elicits the percussive, thumping thwack you so deftly describe and creates a sort of mirrored aural humming to twin with that of your humming skin

From my bathtub for you.

 

[oldnotdead47]

Never too old to learn Moochie. I loved hearing you read it as well.

 

[MatMacL616]

Having an unarticulated want met is a unique thrill, thank you mightily for the gift of your voice, voicing your words.

 

[Azuldrgon]

Good evening, Moochie.
I hope you are staying warm, practicing your self care and knowing you are appreciated.

 

[Moochienanu]

Shivers

Your lips, warm and wanting,
press against the curve of my neck,
soft as a whisper,
slow as a secret unfolding.

Each touch sends a shiver,
a ripple that pools
at the hollow of my chest,
where your breath lingers—
hot, deliberate.

I tilt my head,
offering the slope of skin
you crave to conquer.
Your mouth finds its place,
the edge of my décolletage,
where softness meets shadow.

You trace there,
tongue teasing,
a dance between restraint and hunger.
I feel your need,
not in words,
but in the way your hands
grip my sides,
anchoring me to you,
as if I might dissolve.

The air thickens,
filled with my sighs,
your growl,
the weight of this moment
pulling us deeper,
closer,
to where only sensation remains.

 

[menoone]

Shivers

Your lips, warm and wanting,
press against the curve of my neck,
soft as a whisper,
slow as a secret unfolding.

Each touch sends a shiver,
a ripple that pools
at the hollow of my chest,
where your breath lingers—
hot, deliberate.

I tilt my head,
offering the slope of skin
you crave to conquer.
Your mouth finds its place,
the edge of my décolletage,
where softness meets shadow.

You trace there,
tongue teasing,
a dance between restraint and hunger.
I feel your need,
not in words,
but in the way your hands
grip my sides,
anchoring me to you,
as if I might dissolve.

The air thickens,
filled with my sighs,
your growl,
the weight of this moment
pulling us deeper,
closer,
to where only sensation remains.

The dance between restraint and hunger, such beautiful and apt imagery.

 

[dd_cola]

Shivers

Your lips, warm and wanting,
press against the curve of my neck,
soft as a whisper,
slow as a secret unfolding.

Each touch sends a shiver,
a ripple that pools
at the hollow of my chest,
where your breath lingers—
hot, deliberate.

I tilt my head,
offering the slope of skin
you crave to conquer.
Your mouth finds its place,
the edge of my décolletage,
where softness meets shadow.

You trace there,
tongue teasing,
a dance between restraint and hunger.
I feel your need,
not in words,
but in the way your hands
grip my sides,
anchoring me to you,
as if I might dissolve.

The air thickens,
filled with my sighs,
your growl,
the weight of this moment
pulling us deeper,
closer,
to where only sensation remains.

Moochie, I love your poem and the accompanying picture. Your words paint a beautiful picture, only to be outdone by the beautiful image of you.

Thanks for sharing

 

[oldnotdead47]

Beautiful Moochie. I feel every word. And I learned a new word And your picture is beautiful, as always

 

[Moochienanu]

The dance between restraint and hunger, such beautiful and apt imagery.

Always appreciate your words.

Moochie, I love your poem and the accompanying picture. Your words paint a beautiful picture, only to be outdone by the beautiful image of you.

Thanks for sharing

Thank you, dd. I’ve been feeling more inspired of late and I’m not complaining at all about it. Thank you for your comment.

Beautiful Moochie. I feel every word. And I learned a new word And your picture is beautiful, as always

I am guessing the French? I love saying the word décolletage. It sounds so much more naughty than “cleavage” and has more of a ring to it than “the upper slopes of the woman’s breasts.” Thank you for stopping in and reading. I like hearing what you think.

 

[Moochienanu]

Time stretches long without you,
each moment weighted with wanting,
a slow burn that coils low and deep,
untamed, unrelenting.

I close my eyes and feel you—
the ghost of your touch
skimming my skin,
the heat of your body
pressing into mine,
claiming spaces only you know.

Behind walls and shadows,
where the world cannot follow,
I imagine your breath,
hot against my neck,
your hands gripping, guiding,
your voice a rough growl
that makes me unravel.

The ache sharpens,
not just for your touch,
but for the way you fill me,
entirely, endlessly,
until I am nothing but yours,
until the distance between us
is swallowed by the heat of now.

I crave the moment
when time will still,
and you’ll be there,
buried deep,
moving like you were made for me.
My body, a song only you can play,
tuned to the rhythm
of your pulse,
your words,
your hunger.

Until then, I wait,
the longing a fire
that refuses to fade,
a promise etched in my flesh
for the next time
we are alone.